Be-All and End-All
by benevolentdespot
Summary: Arthur and Alfred have been best friends for years, but their relationship takes an unexpected turn when they leave for boarding school together.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur sighed as he snapped his suitcase shut. He absently glanced at his packing list, satisfied that he had accounted for everything. In just a few hours, he would be boarding a plane and on his way to high school.

"America," he breathed softly to himself. He had never been to America before. He wasn't looking forward to it. England was his home. He wasn't ready to leave.

He picked up the letter that sat next to his suitcase, rereading it for the hundredth time. The school that he would be attending was one of the best in the world. He hadn't really thought that he would get in when he had submitted his application. But the letter had arrived not long after the end of the term. He hadn't known what to say when he had first read it, but he couldn't say no.

The school was a residential program for juniors and seniors in high school. It accepted the best and brightest students from around the world. It boasted a specialized curriculum that placed its students on the fast track to some of the most reputable universities in the world. Students who graduated from the program had never been turned down by any university. It was a brilliant opportunity, but a daunting one nonetheless.

The first thing that he had thought of when he read the letter was Alfred. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't known his best friend. The Jones family had moved to England when Arthur was seven. Their parents had been friends long before he and Alfred had been born. Arthur and Alfred's fathers had worked for the same company for years, and their families had spent most of their summer vacations together on the southern coast of England. Mr. Jones' job had required him to take regular business trips to the United Kingdom and occasional trips to central Europe. After his trips from home had become longer and more frequent, he had decided to relocate his family to England so that he could spend more time with them. They had moved into a house a couple blocks away from Arthur's house, and Arthur and Alfred had been inseparable ever since then.

The two had done everything together. Alfred's parents had been quick to enroll Alfred in the same private school as Arthur. If they weren't at Alfred's house after school, then they were at Arthur's house, and vice versa. They had planned to go on to sixth form together, as well, but those plans had dissolved as soon as Arthur had opened his acceptance letter.

When they heard that Arthur had been accepted, Alfred's parents had made a few phone calls. Several days later, Alfred's invitation had arrived, as well. It certainly had nothing to do with the large donation Alfred's parents had made to the school.

There had been a long argument about whether or not he and Alfred would room together. He wasn't clear on who had wanted what, but from he had gathered, one side wanted them to room together so that Alfred would do his homework and Arthur would leave his room, and the other side had thought that they should room with other people so that they could branch out a bit. No one had asked what he or Alfred had wanted. A couple days before they were to leave, he had been told that he and Alfred would be rooming together. He wasn't sure whether he was excited or dreading it.

He and Alfred spent most of their time together, but it was nice to be able to escape from Alfred every now and then.

Alfred, of course, was ecstatic about returning to the States. He had babbled on and on about all the things that they would do once they arrived. His absurd patriotism had somehow managed to soar to new levels that Arthur had neither known nor hoped existed. By the time August had arrived, Arthur had already had enough of America. His ridiculous best friend seemed to embody the country. He had even managed to retain his American accent, in spite of spending the majority of his life in England.

But like it or not, he would be in the District of Columbia in less than a day. He just hoped that it wasn't nearly as bad as Alfred had described.

Dropping the letter back on his bed, he glanced around his room, double-checking that he had gotten everything that he needed. A small photograph rested on the edge of his desk. He smiled as he picked it up. It was a picture from his and Alfred's last day of primary school. Alfred was grinning into the camera and flashing a peace sign. He had Arthur in what looked like a headlock. Arthur was scowling at the camera and trying to push Alfred away.

After looking at the photo for a few moments, he reopened his suitcase and gently placed the photo inside. It was hard to believe that they would be headed to universities in two years. He felt … old. When he had mentioned this to Alfred, he had only laughed.

"Dude, you are old. You've been old since you were, like, four! You're practically ancient now. That's why you need meeeeee!" Arthur had smacked him, but he knew Alfred was right. Alfred was actually almost a year older than Arthur, but Arthur was almost always mistaken as the older of the two. Arthur was the responsible one; Alfred was the fun one. It was a wonder that they were even friends, given how different they were.

He checked the time on his phone. They would be leaving in about thirty minutes. That would give him about three hours to check his luggage, go through security, and get to his boarding gate.

He pressed the first speed dial on his phone—Alfred's number. He tapped his foot impatiently as the phone rang. It would be a miracle if Alfred were actually ready to go. He wouldn't be surprised if Alfred hadn't packed until last night.

"lo?" Alfred mumbled groggily.

"Alfred," Arthur snapped. "Are you ready to leave? We need to be at the airport soon."

Alfred was quiet for a moment, then said, "It's nine in the morning. We don't leave 'til four. Why did you wake me up so early?" he complained. "I'll leave at three or something."

"Our flight leaves at one. And you can't just walk onto your flight, you git. You need to get there a couple of hours early." Alfred was silent. "You haven't even gotten out of bed, have you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm outta bed."

"Of course," Arthur said dryly. "Put on some clothes and get to the airport."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"But I haven't packed yet," Alfred whined. Arthur almost dropped the phone.

"You haven't packed," he said slowly. He was going to kill Alfred.

"Nah, I figured I'd pack before I left. That way I don't have to dig through my luggage to find stuff. Have you?"

"I packed five days ago."

"Oh, well that's cool," he said sleepily.

"Wake up," Arthur barked. "If you don't make our flight, I'm not going to wait with you for the next flight."

"Alright, alright. I'm up…. Hey, do you know where I put my passport? I can't remember—"

Arthur ended the call, more than a little annoyed. He checked his room one more time before grabbing his suitcase and closing the door. He wouldn't let himself look back.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred was bored. At first he had been thrilled with all the movies and games on the screen in front of him. He had gone through all of the movies before finally choosing which one he wanted to watch first. The movie had kept his attention for about forty-five minutes, but … but then it hadn't kept his attention after that. He was way too excited about going back to America. He hadn't been there in almost two years—not since his grandmother's eighty-fifth birthday, which had been a disaster, so he didn't really count that.

He tried talking to Arthur, but Arthur was still irritated with him for almost missing their flight. He'd had to run through the airport and still almost hadn't made it. But he had made it, and he felt like it wasn't fair that Arthur was upset.

So he had tried talking to Arthur, but Arthur had told him to go to sleep or something. Arthur, of course, had brought a book with him and was reading that. Actually, he had brought several books with him. He had already finished one and had moved on to the next one.

After that, he tried watching another movie, but it wasn't the same as watching one at home. He usually watched them when he was trying to avoid doing something else, which was all the time. But now he didn't have anything else to do and he really wanted to talk to Arthur about all the cool things that they were going to do once they got to D.C.

"Alfred, please watch a movie or go to sleep," Arthur said, eyeing his friend critically. "I would really like to finish my books before we land."

"I can't. I drank, like, five coffees before I got to the airport." Arthur looked alarmed.

"I thought your parents said that you couldn't have coffee anymore. You don't handle it well." They both knew that was an understatement. Alfred was like a five year old with ADHD whenever he had even a little bit of coffee.

"Yeah, but I was really tired and I needed the extra energy. I was up until 5 in the morning and then you woke me up at nine. There was no way in hell I would've made it to the airport if I hadn't."

"What were you doing until 5 am?" Arthur asked, exasperated.

"Uh … there may or may not have been a horror movie marathon."

Arthur groaned. "Great, this means we're going to be sleeping with the lights on for the next month."

Alfred quickly shook his head. "We can't turn the lights off ever," he said seriously. They're just waiting until you least expect it, so you have to expect it all the time."

"You're sleeping in the hallway, then."

"But Arrrrrthuuuurrrrr." Alfred bounced up in down in his seat. God, he was hyper. "It's not that big a deal. Your eyes are gonna be closed anyway."

"Fine," Arthur snapped, "but I am _not_ sharing a bed with you again. I told you last time, and the time before that, that you needed to stop watching horror movies."

"But I like them. They really don't scare me that much!"

Arthur laughed. "Then it's settled. We will sleep with the lights off."

"Don't do this," Alfred whined.

"If you stop bothering me for the remainder of this flight, then I'll consider letting you leave them on," Arthur offered.

"That's soooo loooong! And why do you have to read your stupid books right now? We should be doing something fun … or something." He couldn't think of anything fun to do right now—aside from pestering Arthur, but that was a given.

"I happen to like reading. Besides, these are from the summer reading list. I read them at the beginning of the summer, but I want to brush up a bit before classes begin. I also don't trust your conception of fun."

"Ew, why do you have summer reading?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "_We_ have summer reading."

Alfred blanched. "Wait, really? You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding. Didn't you read the information packet that the school sent us?"

"Oh, I, uh … I skimmed it…."

"Alfred, did you even open it?"

"Of course! At least, I think I did." He wasn't really sure, to be honest. He sort of remembered his mom handing him a large manila envelope, but he couldn't remember where he'd put it and if he had looked at it after that. "Oh well. It's not like I've ever read any of the books for school before. You'll help me with the essays and stuff, right? I mean, that's what friends are for." He grinned and nudged Arthur in the ribs with his elbow.

Arthur groaned. "You have to take this seriously, Alfred." He dug through his satchel and handed Alfred the packet that the school had sent them. "You barely made it through the last term. This school is going to be a lot more difficult and I may not have the time to help you."

Alfred wasn't paying attention anymore. Flipping through the packet, he quickly found a section talking about athletics at the school. "Cool! They have football! Real football," he added, "not your stupid soccer."

"Your sport has no right to be called football. 'American football' is a misnomer. The players spend far more time carrying the ball—which isn't spherical at all—than they do kicking it."

They'd had this argument a lot. Arthur had played soccer since he was seven or eight, and had always defended his sport's right to the name 'football.' Alfred, on the other hand, didn't even consider soccer a sport. In spite of that, though, he had always gone to most of Arthur's games, just as Arthur had always gone to his games.

The packet, the books, and Alfred's lack of motivation were immediately forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur was exhausted. He had hoped that the plane ride would be relaxing and that he would be able to finish a few of his books—if not all of them. Instead, Alfred had goaded him into an argument about sports, which had gone on for about twenty minutes. They argued until someone told them to shut up, and then Alfred forced Arthur to watch a movie with him. Of course, they weren't able to agree on which movie they would watch. Eventually they agreed that they would each choose a movie and watch one right after the other. By the time they had finished the second movie, they were close to their destination, which left Arthur with little to no time to finish his books. It was frustrating, but he couldn't say that he hadn't had fun.

By the time they got off of the plane, though, Arthur was stiff, tired, and irritable. He felt like he was chasing after a toddler as he struggled to keep up with Alfred. Alfred was all over the place. First he had wanted to ride on the moving sidewalk a second time. Arthur hadn't been able to catch up with Alfred in time, so he was forced to wait for him as he hopped onto the sidewalk going in the opposite direction, and then back onto the one that they had initially been on. After that, it was the restaurants. Alfred wanted to get something from all of them. After the third or fourth one, Arthur had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away.

"Act your age," he hissed.

"C'mon Artie. Loosen up a little. Here, have a fry." He shoved a greasy bag in Arthur's face and Arthur swatted it away.

"It's Arthur. Let's just find a cab, shall we?" he said grumpily.

"But I wanna—"

"No."

"You're no fun," Alfred pouted.

"And you are seventeen. Stop acting like a child."

Arthur practically jumped out of the cab when they arrived at the school. Alfred chattered incessantly—mostly with the cab driver, since Arthur refused to respond. The smell of the fast food that Alfred had brought with him into the cab was giving him a headache. Neither Alfred nor the cab driver seemed bothered by it. That was no surprise, though, given all of the grease stains that spotted the seats. Arthur did his best not to touch anything, desperately hoping that all of the stains were from food.

When they arrived at the school, a student ambassador directed them to the cafeteria, where registration had begun. When the student mentioned that refreshments were also being served in the cafeteria, Alfred made a beeline towards the building that supposedly contained the cafeteria. After thanking the older boy, Arthur slowly trailed behind Alfred, cursing his heavy bags all the while.

The cafeteria was packed with students and faculty. A girl directed them to a line of tables, where he and Alfred signed in. They were each given a small package. Arthur was relieved to see his room key inside it.

"Merde, their standards are becoming a little lax, non? I hadn't expected to see you here, mon cher."

Arthur turned quickly and saw the last person on earth who he wanted to see. "They must be lax if they let you in," he snarled. "What are you doing here, Francis?"

"Such a warm welcome. Is that any way to treat an old friend?" he chided.

"'Friend' is the last word that I would use to describe you."

"Then how would you describe us?" he asked, closing the gap between them. He brushed Arthur's hair back and Arthur flinched away.

"Unfortunate acquaintances," he spat.

And it really was unfortunate. He and Francis had known each other even longer than he and Alfred had. Their mothers had been roommates during their university days and had managed to remain friends over the years, in spite of living in different countries. Arthur's dad had never liked Francis' mother very much—a sentiment that he was fairly certain was mutual—so the families had never gone out of their way to do things together. But whenever his mother had gone to France, she had insisted that Arthur go with her. Francis' mother had done the same with Francis whenever she came to England. They had also had the brilliant idea of having Francis and Arthur attend the same camp every summer. It had been four weeks of pure hell that he'd had to endure since he was eight.

He had finally put his foot down two years ago. His father had been quick to support him, so that had ended his summers with Francis. He hadn't seen or spoken with Francis since then. Wishful thinking had promised that he would never have to see Francis ever again. It now appeared that he was going to be spending the next two years in close proximity to Francis. God, he hated America.

"You know you missed me," Francis said with an evil smile.

"I had actually forgotten that you existed." Honestly, the mere thought of Francis was enough to make him want to become a solipsist.

"You couldn't forget me even if you wanted," he whispered, running his tongue along Arthur's ear. Arthur yelped, causing several people to stare. "You're causing a scene, mon petit," France said reprovingly.

"Stay away from me," he growled. He glanced around desperately. Where was Alfred when he needed him? He hadn't been able to get away from him for almost half a day, but now he was nowhere to be found.

He did a double take when he saw what looked like Alfred talking to himself. He pulled away from Francis, who had started to trail his fingers across Arthur's arm.

As he walked towards them, he recognized Alfred from his baggy jeans and superhero t-shirt. Though their resemblance was striking, the boy to the right was slightly paler than Alfred, his hair slightly shaggier, and his glasses a little chunkier. He wore a green hoodie and loose beige slacks. He smiled shyly as Arthur walked towards them.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed in a relieved tone. He looked just as desperate as Arthur had felt a few moments ago. Arthur stared at them curiously, wondering what had happened.

He hadn't realized that the frog had followed him.

"Twins! How delightful," Francis exclaimed, placing his arms around both of them and pulling them close.

Alfred turned bright red. "Actually, we're cousins," the other boy stammered softly.

"Right," Alfred managed a few seconds later. Everyone was silent, and both Alfred and the other boy looked uncomfortable.

Arthur stared at the boy curiously. Alfred had never mentioned having a cousin—much less a cousin who looked almost exactly like him. Not that it surprised him, though. Alfred had always been strangely silent about his extended family.

"Right, then," Arthur said, clearing his throat. He extended his hand. "I'm Arthur. I don't believe you mentioned your name."

"I'm Matthew," he said, inching away from Francis' embrace. "Matthew Williams."

Arthur did his best to smile. He wasn't very good at dispelling awkward situations, but Alfred wasn't doing anything to help and Francis, as usual, was only making things worse. He was desperately trying to think of something pleasant to say when there was a loud crash.

They all glanced toward the other side of the cafeteria, where a large table of food had just been overturned. Moving closer, Arthur saw that a burly blonde was trying to separate two boys—a brunette and an albino. A boy who looked a lot like the brunette was standing nearby. His eyes were wide and he kept looking back and forth between the food on the floor and the boys yelling at each other. Arthur couldn't tell which he was more upset about, but he looked like he was almost in tears.

The brunette was yelling at the albino in what sounded like Italian and struggling to get free. The albino grinned lazily, not even trying to escape from the blonde's grip.

After struggling with the two—mostly the Italian—for another minute, the blonde had finally had enough. "Quiet!" he bellowed. The entire cafeteria went silent. He turned to the albino. "Gilbert, why are you fighting with him?" he asked in a thick accent.

"He's just jealous 'cause I'm awesome and—" he paused for a second. "Actually, that's all I've got. It's just my awesomeness," he concluded with a grin.

The blonde sighed and looked at the Italian, raising an eyebrow. "I will not have his brother living in the same room as my brother!" he squeaked. "I don't want those potato bastards anywhere near us!"

Gilbert started laughing. "Potato bastard! Did ya hear that, West?"

The blonde dropped his arms. He looked tired. "I am his brother."

The Italian squeaked and jumped away before scurrying out of the cafeteria. The other brunette, who Arthur could only assume was his brother, ran after him calling, "Lovino! Lovino wait!"

"Hey West, wasn't that awesome? You wanna—ow! Not cool!" The blonde had grabbed Gilbert by the ear and was dragging him out of the cafeteria. No one tried stopping them.

As soon as they left, everyone started talking again.

"Well that was certainly interesting," Francis murmured.

"Aw man, that was all the food." Alfred stared at the table mournfully. "They even stepped on a bunch of it."

"You just ate. Why does it matter?" Arthur asked critically.

"I'm hungry! That stuff was just to make up for all the fast food that I didn't get to eat while we were in England. Seriously, no Mickey D's in a twenty-mile radius. That made up for, like, a week's worth of fast food! Probably less. So I haven't eaten since this morning, since plane food totally doesn't count."

Arthur shook his head. "You're hopeless."

"No, I'm just hungry," Alfred shot back. "Let's go get food somewhere."

"Alfred, I am exhausted," Arthur said irritably. "I have been awake for nearly seventeen hours—ten of which I have had to spend with you. I am not going to wander around D.C. with you so that you can stop at every fast food restaurant in the city. You can eat in the morning."

"But that's soooo long! My stomach is gonna eat itself," Alfred whined.

Before Arthur could tell him to shut up, Matthew spoke. "I have food in my room," he said timidly. "I could make pancakes if you want."

"You've moved in already?" Arthur asked, a little surprised. Matthew nodded.

"I've been here for about a week now. I got special permission to move in early."

"God, can we just get food already? I don't even care that it's your stupid Canadian food." Arthur jabbed him with his elbow. "Ow!" He rubbed his side. "Well I don't."

Matthew stared at them for a minute before pointing toward the cafeteria door. "O-okay. It's this way."

Francis started to follow them, so Arthur pulled him to the side.

"You're not invited, frog."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Matthieu!" Francis called. Matthew turned.

"Yes?"

"May I have pancakes, as well?"

"Oh. Um, of course."

"There," Francis said smugly. "Now I am invited." Arthur just scowled, quickening his pace so that he could catch up with Alfred and get away from Francis.

Matthew led them to the dorm building, then to the second floor where he was living. "This is it," he said, opening the door.

Alfred made a beeline for the bed and flopped down on it. He picked up a stuffed moose that was resting against the pillow and examined it.

"Dude, why do you have a reindeer?"

"It's a moose," Arthur said, exasperated.

"Same thing."

"Hardly."

They bantered back and forth while Matthew pulled out a griddle and started making the pancakes. Francis, much to Matthew's discomfort, began playing with Matthew's hair, braiding the longer parts. He pushed Matthew into a nearby chair after Matthew had flipped the pancakes.

"You have beautiful hair," he murmured.

"Francis, stop being creepy."

"Hey, his hair is the same as mine," Alfred said at the same time, his voice overpowering Arthur's.

"Non. Your hair is short and it sticks out in odd places," he said, ignoring Arthur. He was good at that—pestering Arthur at the most inconvenient times and then ignoring him when Arthur actually bothered to address him.

"No it doesn't! It just flips out a little, is all."

"It sticks straight up," Francis said with a sniff. He sniffed again. "Is something burning?"

Matthew jumped up. "The pancakes," he groaned. He quickly scraped them off of the griddle. "That was the last of the mix, too."

"Way to go, Mattie." Alfred jumped up and grabbed the plate before Matthew could finish putting the pancakes on them. "Do you have any syrup?" Matthew pointed to a stack of plastic drawers. "It's just like Arthur's cooking," he said as he squeezed an inordinate amount of syrup on his pancakes. "You gotta cover it up with something else, then it tastes just fine."

Francis let out a bark of laughter and Arthur frowned. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Alfred shrugged. "Nothing. I eat your cooking, don't I?"

"It seems you eat just about anything," Francis murmured with a smile.

Matthew meekly offered a pancake to Francis and Arthur. Arthur took it, not wanting to offend Matthew. He bit in, doing his best to ignore the crunch and the taste of charcoal. Francis did the same.

"C'est de la merde," Francis whispered to Arthur. He had initially learned French so that he would know when Francis was insulting him, but Francis had turned the tables, insulting Arthur all the more and occasionally making obscene comments to him. He wished he hadn't wasted the time on it. Talking with Francis in one language was bad enough.

Matthew looked up quickly. "Je m'excuse très humblemen," he said softly, but there was a bite to his words.

Francis stared at Matthew, his face turning a deep red. It was all Arthur could do to keep from laughing. He hadn't seen Francis this embarrassed in years.

"You speak French?" he asked weakly.

"Oui, je parle très bien le français." Matthew stared at Francis for a moment, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say more. He sighed and averted his eyes instead.

"What are they saying?" Alfred whispered loudly.

"Be quiet," Arthur whispered back. He wanted to savor this moment.

"I am very sorry," Francis stammered. "I can assure that I didn't actually mean it. The pancakes are lovely." When Matthew didn't say anything, he dug through his pockets, finding his room key. "I believe I'll take my leave now and turn in early. Thank you for the pancakes." He opened the door and practically ran out.

As soon as the door closed, Arthur collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard that his sides hurt. "Did you see his face?" he gasped. "I would pay good money to see that again."

Matthew frowned. "Is he always like this?" he asked, turning to Alfred.

"Who? Francis or Arthur?"

"Uh, Francis."

Alfred shrugged. "Wouldn't know. Don't really know the guy."

Arthur wiped his eyes. "Oh, he's always like that. He's the rudest person I know. He's just usually good at hiding it." He started laughing again. Matthew stared at him.

"Arthur's never like this," Alfred said, turning to Matthew. "He almost never laughs. Enjoy it while you can, 'cause it probably won't happen again for another five years."

"Shut up you git. I'm going to the room now to get some rest. If you're going to be noisy, please find somewhere else to go."

"Nah, I'll come with you. I don't want you taking the best bed or anything like that."

"I'm fairly certain they're exactly the same." 

"There's always a better one," Alfred insisted.

Arthur all but forgot about Matthew until Alfred yelled, "Thanks Mattie!" as they were walking out the door.

He stopped. "Right. Yes. Thank you Matthew. And I am sorry about Francis. He's like that with everyone, so don't feel too special."

Matthew just nodded and closed the door as they walked away.


End file.
